


if you say you want me to stay, i’ll change my mind.

by crankgameplays



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: And angst, Fluff, M/M, Stiles is legal idc, but anyways, idfk how to write either of them, listen, so this is gonna suck, stiles AND derek get shot, theres some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:07:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14672664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crankgameplays/pseuds/crankgameplays
Summary: “Aw, ya big bad wolf,” He cooed, his eyelashes fluttering up at Derek. “You care about little red riding hood,”





	if you say you want me to stay, i’ll change my mind.

**Author's Note:**

> listen i suck at writing both stiles and derek’s character bht i love them and i’m gay so here

Stiles wasn’t an idiot. It wasn’t like he purposely jumped into situations that could kill him. Okay, well, he did. But only because Scott would be literally dead without him. But this? Yeah, this was new levels of ‘jumping into a situation that could kill him.’ It wasn’t his fault, though. That hunter was going to kill him, the bastard, so the wisest decision was to run towards him as fast as he could while raising his bat over his head and screaming a battle cry, which was pathetic compared to the two alphas struggling in the clearing around him. Only that was a stupid mistake, really, because all it did was get a knife in his side and an arrow in his shoulder. He screamed, and it sounded nasty even to his ears as he collapsed to the ground, his back arching as white hot pain sent every single nerve on fire. 

“Stiles!” He heard a voice cry out, and when he turned his head to the side, his vision was blurry with tears and pain. But he could still see the outline of Derek, panic on his blurry and wolfed out face. 

“Good dog,” He managed, patting Derek on the side of his face, before his eyes rolled back in his head and darkness consumed him. 

**  
**

When he came back to the living, which he didn’t think he would do, he was able to make out the distinctions of his own room. His brain was loopy, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. 

“Sleep,” a voice came from the darkness and yeah, that woke Stiles’ up real quick. He jolted up in bed, a numb kind of pain rolling through his body as he moved his shoulder. Derek stepped out of the shadows of his room, looking tired but still with a stoic mask on his face. There was blood on his shirt, and it took Stiles’ sluggish brain a minute to conclude that it was his blood.

“Why aren’t I at the hospital?” He slurred out, forcing his eyes open so he could watch Derek. 

“Melissa came by. She stitched you up, said that neither wound was really deep. She gave you some morphine and some other pain pills for when the morphine ran out,” Derek explained to him. 

“God bless that woman,” Stiles sighed out, finally identifying the sluggish warmth that ran through him as pain medicine. He could get used to being high as fuck if this is what it entitled. “Why are you still here?” He asked, flicking his eyes over to Derek. 

“Someone had to make sure you still woke up,” Derek’s voice was cold, but Stiles’ knew him. He knew Derek better than Derek thought he did. And even as a fucked up druggie, he could hear the concern behind that tone. 

“Aw, ya big bad wolf,” He cooed, his eyelashes fluttering up at Derek. “You care about little red riding hood,” He tried for a smirk, but he think he just grimaced instead and decided it was better to let his face lie normal. Derek snorted and shook his head. 

“You’re not little red riding hood. And Im not your wolf,” He went to leave, to jump out of Stiles’ window and pretend this never happened. Stiles panicked. 

“Stay!” He blurted out before he could stop himself. Derek tensed, one foot already on the ledge of the window. He debated for a few seconds, and the room was so quiet that he could hear the two of them breathing in perfect harmony. He nodded once, tight, and then stepped into Stiles’ room and shut his window. He walked over to the desk chair, dropping down into it like he’d done it a million times. 

“Did you carry me?” Stiles’ asked, eyeing the blood on Derek’s shirt. Derek nodded, once, not even looking at Stiles. “Why?” He continued, pushing the covers off of himself and forcing himself to stand. 

“Because Scott was pretty sure you were dead, and he wouldn’t use his senses for just one second to tell that your heart was beating fairly strongly for someone who’d just passed out from pain,” Derek crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Stiles. “Now lay back down, idiot. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” He snarled, and Stiles knew he was using the Alpha Voice on him. 

“I may be pack but I’m not a wolf,” Stiles said, trying not to wince as pain rushed through his body, dulled by the pain killers but still there. He watched Derek’s face, and worry flicked over it for a second, his eyebrows scrunching down and his hands clenching like he wanted to push Stiles back to bed, before indifference won over and he relaxed. 

“Why do you do that?” Stiles demanded, and he was surprised by the anger in his voice. Derek watched him warily as he slowly shuffled to his desk chair. “Why are you scared to let anyone see how you fuckin feel?” He said, and the anger was enough to cover the pain long enough to get over to Derek, standing in front of him and glaring. 

“Stiles,” He growled, a warning. Stiles set his hands on the chair, and he was panting slightly and the anger was gone and the morphine was wearing off, and pain was coursing through him. He hung his head, screwing his eyes shut as a deep ache took over his body. Derek watched him carefully, and he was surprised when he felt a hand wrap around his wrist. When he opened his eyes and looked up, he saw deep black veins twisting through Derek’s arms, his face screwed up at the feeling of Stiles’ pain. 

“Told you,” Stiles breathed, his head clear but exhausted. “You care about little red riding hood,” and then he collapsed against Derek. He wasn’t asleep, not really, but it was a struggle keeping himself upright. 

“Goddammit,” He heard Derek mutter, and then he was being lifted effortlessly and carefully into the air. He felt his bed underneath him, his comforter coming up to rest over his shoulders. “You’re an idiot,” he heard Derek mumble, but then he felt the soft brush of fingertips across his forehead before Derek was gone, sliding out of his window like he was never there in the first place. 

**  
**

Months after that, when Stiles was healed and had some pretty badass battle scars on him, he had the overwhelming sense of deja vu when Derek collapsed to the ground, an animalistic roar tearing through his throat and shaking the entire building they were standing in. Stiles couldn’t stop to check on him, not when he was beating the fuck out of a wendigo that was trying to eat his face off. Stupid cannibals. He finally managed to knock it down with a well placed blow to the head, and then he was rushing over to Derek, dropping to his knees. Derek was convulsing on the ground, his claws and fangs sprouting and then disappearing. 

“Hunters,” He growled out. “Yellow wolfsbane. Hurts like a bitch,” He dug his fangs into his mouth so hard that blood came from the two puncture marks, and then they didn’t heal. “Im not gonna heal. Gotta get to Deatons,” He looked like he was about to pass out. 

“No, Deatons is too far. I have wolfsbane at my house. He gave some to me just in case of something like this,” Stiles ran his hands over Derek, finding the bullet wound and pressing his hand against it to stop the black blood coming from the wound. “Come on, buddy, you gotta stand up. You gotta get to my jeep,” He coaxed. standing and trying to pull Derek with him. Derek seemed to understand what was needed of him and he stood, his body swaying as he leaned into Stiles. “Goddammit. Two hundred pounds of furry muscle is depending on me to drag him out to the parking lot. When did this become my life?” Stiles muttered to himself as he dragged Derek out. A wendigo stopped in front of them, but he scurried out of the way when Derek’s red eyes and enraged growl sufficed to terrify him. Stiles managed to get Derek to his jeep, dumping him in the passenger side and shutting the door before climbing into his seat. 

“Alright, big guy. You’re gonna be fine,” He said, and even with the haze of pain and death, Derek could hear the uptick in his heart. 

**  
**

It took the help of his dad, but he managed to get Derek up and inside his bedroom. He scrabbled for the box under the bed, catching it in his long fingers and dragging it out. Derek was on the ground beside him, his eyes closed and his breathing slow and deep. Stiles muttered in latin under his breath, and he could feel the spark of magic under his skin as his fingers skimmed over the names of individual strains of wolfsbane. He found the one he was looking for and pulled the bullet out, biting the tip off and dumping it on to the table. He grabbed his lighter in shaky hands, setting it aflame and then piling it into his hand. He climbed on top of Derek, lifting his shirt up with his free hand. 

“Alright big guy, this is gonna hurt,” He warned him, but Derek was passed out and Stiles’ realized that no, he wasn’t breathing, and Stiles’ was running out of time. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled, and slammed his hand against the wound. He piled the wolfsbane in, and then pressed his thumb against it, holding it there as Derek’s unconscious body writhed around underneath him. Derek’s face wolfed out and then went back to normal, and then he was lying perfectly still. He wasn’t breathing, and he wasn’t waking up. Stiles panicked, again. He climbed off of Derek, pressing his hands against the middle of his solid chest, muttering under his breath as he performed CPR. He hesitated for only a second before he leaned down, tilting Derek’s head up and pushing their lips together. He blew air into his lungs, and then went back to pounding at his chest. 

“Come on,” He muttered, but Derek wasn’t moving. Wasn’t breathing. “Come on!” He screamed, his voice breaking and his chest heaving with breaths that weren’t breaths, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t save Derek. He was useless, he couldn’t save him, he couldn’t even breathe right. By the time he realized he was having a panic attack, it was too late, and he couldn’t pull himself away. He was still pounding on Derek’s chest, trying to get him to breathe in the way that he couldn’t. 

“Breathe,” He heard Derek’s voice, soft in his ear, and he took a shuddering gasp of air into his lungs. When he managed to wipe the tears away, and he could see properly, Derek’s hand was warm around his, and his eyes were open. Stiles’ entire body shuddered in a sob, and he collapsed against Derek’s chest. 

“You’re alive,” He breathed out. Derek forced both of them to sit up, his arms wrapping hesitantly around Stiles. He wasn’t an idiot. He could smell Stiles’ attraction every single time he was around, could hear his heartbeat raise whenever Derek addressed him. But this was entirely different than was Derek knew about him. 

“I’m alive,” Derek breathed out softly, rubbing his hand up and down Stiles’ back as he cried against his shoulder. “You saved my life, Stiles. I’m alive,” He repeated the words over and over until Stiles was calm against him, his fingers still digging tightly into Derek’s side. 

 

“You can’t go, Derek,” Stiles’ voice was pleading, and he didn’t move from his spot wrapped around Derek. “You can’t die on me. I can’t lose you. Please, stay,” He didn’t even realize he was still crying until Derek gently pulled them apart, his hands coming up to wipe the tears away from Stiles’ eyes. 

“Relax, little red,” He said with a smirk. “The big bad wolf isn’t going anywhere,” His voice was a promise. Stiles really didn’t know what he was thinking, and later he would blame it on adrenaline, but he surged forward and smashed his lips against Derek’s. Derek was surprised, but it only took him seconds before he was kissing back, his arms squeezing Stiles’ tightly. 

“Stay,” Stiles whispered against his mouth. 

“For you? Anything.”


End file.
